


silently the senses abandon their defenses

by hectocotyle



Series: liquidmantis shenanigans [3]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: Asexual Character, Belly Rubs, Coming Untouched, Disembowelment, Dream Sex, Fear Play, Feeding Kink, Giant/Tiny, Gore, Nonbinary Character, Other, Romantic Vore, Self-Harm, Trust Kink, Vomiting, Vore, consensual vore, kind of??, monster kink, psychic bondage, you can pry that concept from my cold dead bug-chewed fingers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2017-08-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 17:41:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6966805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hectocotyle/pseuds/hectocotyle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just a bunch of one-shots set at various not-always-specified points in the timeline of <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/5955667/chapters/13689163">Oneironautics</a> and featuring the further dreamworld antics of a gleefully masochistic Liquid and a gleefully sadistic bug-monster!Mantis, because shame is a foreign concept to me.</p><p>*Now with fanart in Chapter 1!*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. greedy-guts

**Author's Note:**

> as usual, thought-speech is indicated by angle brackets (reading animorphs as a kid was a very formative experience for me, can you tell)

<You’re just not going to beat me, you realize.> A pained grunt as a grotesque array of insectoid mouthparts gouges into him, tears out a tangled, dripping lump of intestine and other assorted entrails, shoves them into the monster’s beaklike mouth. <I’m regenerating a lot faster than you’re wolfing me down. Hell, I could regenerate instantaneously if I wanted, I just happen to be in a sporting mood.>

 

Mantis glances up at him, its eyes twin slashes of blazing orange in the dim lamplight. There’s something naturally sassy about praying mantis eyes, Liquid thinks, dream-monster variety included—which is to say they suit Mantis excellently. <You underestimate my appetite.>

 

<Do I? Because at this rate the only thing you’ll be winning is a nasty stomachache. Do bug monsters get stomachaches?>

 

<Good question. Offering yourself up to me as an infinite meal like this, though…> Mantis watches, mesmerized, as the flesh of Liquid’s abdomen finishes knitting itself back together, pristine as if it hadn’t been feasting on him a moment ago. It lets out a low, appreciative hiss. <You’re making me want to find out the hard way.>

 

Liquid squirms under the beast’s greedy scrutiny, acutely aware of just how hard he is, the strain of rough fabric somehow as divine as it is maddening. Fuck, he needs Mantis to touch him, and he doesn’t mean his dick.

 

<So impatient,> says Mantis with obvious approval, and resumes its gluttonous feeding.

 

Liquid wonders if he’ll ever get tired of this. The whole thing has a perverse comfiness about it, a sense of security, from the way Mantis likes to rest its gangling, spiky forelimbs on either side of him to the affability with which it devours him, as if a little recreational cannibalism between good friends is simply to be expected.

 

<Come on, you’re not even trying,> he taunts it. <Should I slow my regeneration speed for you?>

 

<Should you be provoking a giant, ravenous insect?> says Mantis sweetly. It throws back its head to toss a hunk of liver down its throat.

 

<You’re already eating me alive. How much worse can it get?> Liquid says reasonably.

 

Mantis cocks its head, considering this, then with shocking speed saws down through his bowels, clamps its jaws around his spine and crunches it in two, forcing a yelp from his throat and a strong spurt of tears from the corners of his eyes. <I knew it! You _have_ been holding back, dammit! >

 

Mantis chokes down its sloppy mouthful. <Mm, guilty as charged.>

 

<This may be news to you, but competitions by definition have to involve at least two people,> says Liquid. He grimaces as his spine heals and he abruptly regains sensation in his not-quite-complete lower half.

 

Mantis undulates its long, whippy antennae in a sort of bug-beast version of a shrug. <The competition was your idea. _I_ just wanted a convenient excuse to gorge myself on my favorite human to the point of bursting. > It lurches away from the bed, firing off a series of strangled clicking sounds. <Ugh… speaking of which.>

 

Liquid sits up to watch as Mantis flops over on its back, exposing its bloated gut. Normally a subtly iridescent black (and really quite pretty), the flesh has been stretched to the point that it pales more toward charcoal. <You were right, Boss, I have the most dreadful stomachache. Woe is me! I guess you’ll just have to rub my belly until I feel better.>

 

<Or we could be smart people and use your powers to fix you right away.>

 

< _Or_ you could rub my belly until I feel better, > it says, insistently pedaling its clawed hind feet at the air. Liquid can’t help cracking up at the sight. Mantis looks like any other bug flailing twiggy legs in an effort to right itself.

 

<Oh, you can laugh at me, but you can’t do me this one little favor. I see how it is,> Mantis says, melodramatically raising a claw to its forehead.

 

<Hold on, now. When did I say I wouldn’t do it?> says Liquid, getting up to kneel on the floor next to Mantis. He gives its distended belly a cautious, experimental press with his open palm. The flesh is so squashy it gives the impression of sucking onto his hand. Liquid supposes anyone else would be recoiling in disgust, but he finds it rather adorable.

 

With both hands, he starts kneading his way up the length of Mantis’s abdomen, has to keep scooting on his knees because Mantis is just so _big_. He knows he’s pinpointed the perfect amount of pressure when its legs drop limply to its sides and it releases a soft hiss that’s more like a sigh.

 

A moment later, a noisy growl emanates from beneath his hands.

 

<That’s _you_ gurgling away in there, > says Mantis with undisguised relish. Liquid’s dick stirs with renewing interest. <Ahh, I love the way you make me sick.>

 

<You would, you greedy-guts.> He grabs a generous handful of belly, squeezes teasingly. Mantis lets out an unearthly squawk and thrashes its legs. He ducks to avoid getting swatted and hears the crash behind him that indicates his desk chair wasn’t so lucky. <Heh. Ticklish even as a bug, are we? I’ll be sure to file that away.>

 

<Hmph. Big talk for someone who’s in the process of being digested about a dozen times over.> Mantis wriggles its swollen bulk to punctuate the remark. <Not to mention getting off to massaging away the bellyache of the creature digesting you.>

 

Liquid lays his ear on Mantis as he pets, listening to the dull thunder of his own guts being churned into paste. <What can I say? I’d probably get hard from a strong breeze.>

 

<Knowing you, I doubt it would even take a strong one,> says Mantis, amused. <Go on, you filthy animal, touch yourself while you pet me.>

 

<Only if you berate me like that the whole time,> Liquid replies, already sliding an eager hand down the front of his pants.

 

Mantis chitters a couple of rapid, high notes which Liquid has come to recognize as the insect-monster equivalent of _Well, duh._

 

  
(Art by [feels-and-things](http://feels-and-things.tumblr.com/post/155984041191/i-may-have-drawn-some-fanart-for-a-mostly-hard)) 


	2. gay's anatomy

<So you’re telling me this delicate little thing is the part of the foreleg mantises actually walk on?>

 

<The tarsus, yes.>

 

<You would know what it’s called.> Boss flips the claw over in his hand, studying it. <It looks just like your other feet. Not as impressive as the spiky grabby bit, is it?>

 

<The femur and tibia, you mean?>

 

< _Do_ I mean? You’re the bug, not me, > he says, stroking the tarsus with his fingertips.

 

<I am,> Mantis agrees solemnly. <I am the bug.>

 

In all honesty, it mildly astounds Mantis how readily it’s come to think of this as its true form. Then again, hasn’t Boss himself always perceived (on some level at least) that Mantis would be happier, more comfortable in its own skin, as a nonhuman being? With a flush of pleasure, it remembers that first night, that first transformation: the two of them simultaneously beginning to think of Mantis as an _it_ ; the essential rightness of the pronoun reverberating across their psychic link.

 

Evidently, like most things, being dehumanized feels a lot nicer when it’s consensual.

 

Liquid continues petting its claw. <Tarsus,> he says slowly, committing the word to memory. He looks up. <I believe I could benefit from a more in-depth lesson on mantis anatomy. For science.>

 

He lifts the tarsus to his face, kisses the top of it like a pretty girl’s hand. Mantis trills out a coo that’s wholly incongruous with its size and ferocious appearance.

 

<I didn’t know you could make a noise like that,> Boss chuckles.

 

Mantis covers its face with a grasping claw. <Neither did I.>

 

Still grinning, Boss tells it, <On the bed with you, then.>

 

Mantis flings itself backward onto the bed, which immediately grows via dream-magic to accommodate one human and one insectoid affront to nature. Liquid jumps and lands directly on its thorax. All two-hundred-or-so pounds of him.

 

<Was that really necessary?> Mantis asks. One of its hind legs twitches erratically.

 

Boss shrugs (Mantis catches a flicker of smugness, the dick) and cups its chitinous face in his hands. <All right, tell me the names of all these scary mandibles. I’m curious as to what exactly you’ve been spearing into my organs night after night.>

 

<Well, if we’re going to get technical, ‘mandibles’ is not a catch-all term for my mouthparts. It only applies to _these_. > It darts its beak forward, snapping the thick, saw-edged mandibles shut with a resounding _CRACK_ half an inch from Liquid’s nose. It hisses a laugh as Boss jerks back with a yelp.

 

<Was that really necess—oh. Fine. I guess I earned that.>

 

Mantis’s antennae twitch with satisfaction. <Moving right along: The chewing parts underneath the mandibles are the maxillae. They’re more mobile, a bit less firm. Better for manipulating, mm, liquid.> It grinds its maxillae together, working up a good slobber of oil-colored mucus, and turns the most over-the-top “come-hither” look it can muster on its boss.

 

Who keels over to one side, wrapping his arms around himself and laughing so explosively it’s a small miracle he doesn’t rupture something. Mission accomplished, decides Mantis.

 

<The little antenna-looking things sticking out from the base of the maxillae are called palps,> it goes on when Liquid regains the ability to pay attention (after multiple false starts in which he takes one look at Mantis’s innocent “what did I say?” expression and devolves into a wheezing, gasping mess all over again). <They sort of function as antennae, too. Good for feeling up and taste-testing potential food items. The other pair of palps are attached to the labium—no, not that kind, you sicko. It’s the floor of the mouth.> It wriggles each pair of palps in turn.

 

He pokes the top of its beak. <And this upper lip thing?>

 

<Labrum. Because apparently entomologists thought giving two different mouthparts nearly identical names wouldn’t be confusing at all.>

 

<Greeeat.> Liquid peers deep inside its open maw, flinches. <Christ, what are _those_? >

 

Mantis clicks together the set of uncannily humanoid teeth nestled at the very back of its mouth. <Artistic license.>

 

Without warning, it lurches upward, flips Boss onto his back and pins him to the bed with its tarsi. The whole process spans perhaps half a second. Liquid’s eyebrows shoot up, startled but not really alarmed.

 

An irregular thread of slime-drool dangles from Mantis’s open jaws. <Okay. Let’s see how much you remember.> A black droplet plips onto Boss’s neck as Mantis lowers the whole deadly array toward him.

 

A nervous little laugh. <Um, Mantis, I was not informed there would be a test.>

 

It jerks its head down and locks its mandibles around his throat.

 

Liquid stiffens, dead certain he’s about to be eaten, and to Mantis’s unending amusement (and fascination), the thought inspires a hell of a lot more enthusiasm than fear in its boss. Even the fear is the fun kind, heavily tempered by his deep-rooted confidence that Mantis won’t try to push him past his limits.

 

<Easy now, Boss,> it murmurs. <What are these called?>

 

With its mandibles, it caresses the sides of Boss’s neck. No blood. No pain.

 

He blinks up at Mantis in surprise. <Er. Those are—>

 

<I want to hear your voice.>

 

He shivers. “Man—mandibles,” he gasps. Tilts back his head, beginning to enjoy the unconventional massage.

 

<And these other chewing parts?> It switches to its maxillae, works its way up to his chin. Brushes his forehead and cheeks with its palps. His skin has an enticing smell/taste, salty-sweet but not overpowering. Mantis is sorely tempted, but manages to refrain from sinking its jaws in.

 

“Mm… how could I forget? Maxillae.” He snorts. “Better for—”

 

<If you start laughing again I really will eat you.>

 

“Not one of your more effective threats, Mantis. The mini-antennae… nngh… palps. Quit that, it tickles!”

 

<And the roof and floor of the mouth?>

 

“Ah, shit. Which was which?” Boss says dreamily, distracted by Mantis’s tenderly working mouthparts. “What do I get if I fail?”

 

<I eat you.>

 

“And if I pass?”

 

<I eat you.>

 

“With all due respect, this test seems a bit unfairly rigged.”

 

Mantis nudges his nose with a palp. <In whose favor, though?>

 

Boss hums in a lazy, “point taken” sort of way, and relaxes under Mantis’s care.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the neck-nibbling was inspired by [this mesmerizing gif (my tumblr is predictably super nsfw so be careful!)](http://hectocotyle.tumblr.com/post/144173417585)


	3. first aid

Liquid roots through his closet, shoving aside spare pillows and blankets, until he hears a familiar crinkle. He gives his dwindling candy supply the once-over. <Ugh, I was right. We’re going to have to make these last. It’ll be a while before I can bring more from the mainland.>

 

<American candy isn’t even that good,> Mantis remarks helpfully. <It’s edible and made of sugar, and that’s about the highest praise I can scrounge up for it.>

 

<It’s an acquired taste,> Liquid admits. <Anyway, it isn’t as if we have a wealth of options here in Bumfuck, Alaska. We have to make do with whatever we can smuggle over.>

 

He digs around a little more, hoping to unearth another package or two, but succeeds only in stabbing his middle fingertip on the sharp point of some unseen object. He jerks his hand away, barking out virtually every expletive in his extensive vocabulary. <What in God’s name—hey, I remember this thing!> He gingerly picks it up and holds it out to Mantis. <Let me guess: You stopped wearing it because it caused you excessive blood loss.>

 

Mantis takes the spiked leather collar from him. <Pretty much, yes. Shame, too; the texture felt exquisite around my neck.> He tosses it on top of a cabinet where it can’t impale any more innocent bystanders.

 

<Why? Why would they make the spikes that sharp?> Liquid gripes. <I’m going to hunt down the imbecile who designed that thing and make them wear it inside out!>

 

<For someone whose idea of a fun time is being brutally disemboweled, you’re getting awfully worked up over a little poke.>

 

<That’s different. I _agree_ to being brutally disemboweled. That collar of yours ambushed me. >

 

Wincing, he lifts his finger to his mouth to suck at the welling droplets of blood, but Mantis kneels beside him and stops him by enveloping the injured hand in both of his own. Liquid looks at him, curious.

 

<Like you said, it’s my collar that did it.> A quick series of quiet _chk_ sounds as Mantis unfastens the straps of his mask with his powers. <I should take responsibility. Don’t you think?>

 

Liquid slowly sinks back on his haunches as his friend reveals his face. He knows this still isn’t easy for Mantis, makes him feel naked and vulnerable, and not just due to the lack of a barrier keeping unwanted voices from rudely shunting their way into his skull. His eyelids, dark and slightly swollen with the bottomless weariness born of a combination of chronic malnutrition and never having true privacy in his own head; the two long, ragged, asymmetrical gashes of his cartilageless nose; the meandering, awkwardly-healed scars like fleshy centipedes embedded in his face and scalp—even after all these years, Mantis is reluctant to bare these things to him. But where Mantis sees repulsiveness, Liquid simply sees the marks of a terribly difficult, painful life—something he understands all too well—stretching back well beyond the hardships of their shared childhood.

 

Mantis passes the fingertip into his mouth, laps up the blood with gentle brushes of his tongue. It occurs to Liquid how pretty his eyelashes are from this angle, and a warm rush of affection pulses through him. His eerie, gangling skeleton of a boyfriend is _cute_ , dammit, and he couldn’t give two shits what Mantis or anyone else has to say about it.

 

Mantis casts a wry look up at him as he licks. <You’re a freak,> he says, not unkindly.

 

Liquid just smiles back at him.

 

All at once the piercing pain vanishes, and Mantis releases the finger from his mouth to glance over his handiwork. <All right. I’ve stitched it together on the cellular level. As long as it’s a relatively shallow wound, I can—Boss, that is _incredibly_ distracting. >

 

Undeterred, Liquid tilts Mantis’s chin up and keeps smooching his face all over. <Thanks.>

 

Mantis squints and flushes bright red under the assault, which makes for a lovely contrast with his usual chalky pallor. <Agh! Gross, not there!>

 

<I’m not offended by your snot germs. Promise.>

 

The corners of his friend’s mouth curl up in a goofy grin, and this time fondness crashes over him with the might of a tidal wave, because who else but Liquid ever gets to see Psycho Mantis looking _goofy_?

 

<Boss, if you get any sappier on me, I’m going to end up like those bugs fossilized in amber.>

 

Liquid presses their foreheads together. <Well, seeing as you _are_ a bug… >

 

Some powerful, mixed emotion (dazed-joyful is the best approximation Liquid can come up with) cascades directly into his mind from Mantis’s. His head drops into his boss’s lap at the same moment, as if the accumulating mushiness of the situation just became too much for him to handle.

 

Liquid shrugs and pets Mantis’s head and shoulders as he nods off, the remaining length of his lanky body sprawled ungracefully on the floor beside him. Good thing he’s sitting right next to all the spare pillows and bedsheets; he never can bring himself to interrupt Mantis’s unpredictable, narcolepsy-esque naps, so he may as well make the two of them comfortable.

 

He whispers, “Memo to self: Call Mantis a bug more often.”

 


	4. taste test

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i didn't mean to go two months w/o uploading anything but executive dysfunction + general exhaustion from work have been kicking my ass lol sorry

Liquid stops by his room to pick up some documents about REX and finds Mantis perched upside down on the ceiling with a Game Boy hovering in front of his face.

<You stole that from Dr. Emmerich, didn't you.>

<I didn't steal it, I borrowed it. Without permission. But still. Anyway, I'm doing him a favor here.> Liquid hears the tap of buttons and a couple of seconds later Mantis lets out a satisfied little grunt. <That makes Scyther number thirty-seven. Here, help me come up with a name for this thing.>

<How about Mr. Angry, a.k.a. what _I'm_ going to be if you needlessly upset one of our most vital assets on this project. You'd better— >

Mantis holds up a hand for silence. <A... N... G... R... Y. Okay, I'm finished.>

Liquid closes his eyes and sighs heavily through his nostrils. <Give it to me, Mantis.>

<Sure.> Mantis reaches down and high-fives Liquid's outstretched hand, earning him a downright homicidal look from his boss. <What? You didn't specify _what_ to give you. >

In reply, Liquid grabs Mantis's hand and yanks him down from the ceiling.

<Geez! Dislocate my shoulder while you're at it, why don't you!>

<The GAME.>

<Wait, I'm almost done!> More frantic psychic button-tapping. When Liquid lets go of Mantis's hand, he uses it to push up the bottom of his mask and starts absentmindedly nibbling along the index finger of the other hand. He's nearly reached the wrist when he notices Liquid watching him closely.

He stops, letting his mask slide back into place. <It feels nice,> he offers by way of explanation; Liquid detects a definite twinge of self-consciousness as he adds, <Like I'm grooming my claws.>

Liquid smiles at him. <It suits you.>

Averting his eyes, Mantis snatches the Game Boy out of the air and shoves it at him. <There, take the stupid thing,> he says and retreats to his spot on the ceiling.

Liquid slips it into his pocket for safekeeping as he retrieves the documents from his desk drawer. <I don't see why you're embarrassed. You can hear for yourself I'm not judging you.>

<Well, that's the fun thing about being mentally ill, isn't it? You discover all kinds of new and exciting reasons to dislike yourself and can't let go of them regardless of their validity.>

<Don't I know it,> mutters Liquid, sliding a file folder under his arm. <Still, try not to repress the habit on my account. You've got a lovely set of teeth on you; they should be shared with the world. Namely, me.>

The idea gives him pause. He peers up at Mantis thoughtfully.

Before he can say anything, Mantis cuts in, <Boss, you and I both know you won't want to stop at "just one little bite", and I can't regenerate severe injuries in this world.>

Liquid facepalms. <I know, I know.>

Brilliant, he tells himself as he leaves, now he'll be able to think of nothing else for the next eight hours. As he's done so often in the past, he silently curses his one-track mind.

\----------

One major fact Mantis has learned from his decades of experience with involuntary telepathy is that attempts to smother bothersome thoughts via willpower alone are almost always counterproductive. Which is why he soon finds himself fighting to hear his own thoughts over Boss's fantasies blaring obnoxiously inside his head like a radio transmission he can't turn down the volume on.

Equally as loud is Liquid's anxiety; he knows full well how much his compulsive fantasizing must be wearing on Mantis. It's a worry of his as old as their adulthood friendship, and most days Mantis would appreciate the concern, but right now it's just driving him nuts.

Well, _more_ nuts.

He's in the middle of explaining to Octopus in detail how he plans to use his mind control music on the Genome Soldiers when a particularly clear image of teeth stripping flesh from bone startles him so much he cries out and clutches at his head as if to tear it out.

To Octopus's credit, he doesn't question this, just waits patiently for it to pass and then asks him about his method for inducing mass auditory hallucinations. Odd one, that Octopus—not that Mantis has any room to talk.

After that little episode, Mantis decides to take matters into his own hands.

\----------

On his way back from a meeting with the intel team (which, for obvious reasons, he could barely focus on), Liquid is stopped in his tracks by a shock of cold that seeps up his spine from the tip of his tailbone to the base of his skull. Almost in the same instant, an intangible force jerks him up off his feet and slams him on his back against the wall, driving the air out of him in a painful gasp.

All at once, all he can see is Mantis's mask, no more than a breath's length from his own face.

"You've proven quite the distraction today, Boss."

He speaks softly, his voice made attractively raspy as it's filtered through the mask's muzzle, and Liquid realizes just how much trouble he's in.

Shit. This is the happiest he's been all day.

" 'He could do it if he really wanted to. Hold me down and eat me alive in the waking world, bite by dripping bite, and I'd be helpless to stop him.' "

Liquid throws back his head and moans. He can't help it, hearing those words from Mantis's own mouth, seeing that impish smile in his pretty eyes.

He flinches at the sudden chill of a fingertip on his bared throat.

"Ah," Mantis sighs, tracing lightly along Liquid's jugular vein, making him very aware of the hammering of his pulse. "This takes me back."

Liquid smirks at the ceiling despite himself. "You're never going to let me live that down, are you?"

Mantis's only reply is a husky chuckle as he pushes up his mask, disclosing a hungry grin. He angles his head, snakes it forward. Touches his lips to him.

"I wonder..." he murmurs, breath hot on Liquid's neck. "How much can I take without killing you?"

Liquid tries to squirm with impatience but finds his ability to do so heavily restricted by the firmness with which Mantis's psychic restraints keep him pinned to the wall, his feet perhaps a meter from the floor. A reminder that despite his far superior size and weight, his boyfriend can thoroughly manhandle him without the slightest sign of strain.

For the moment, at least, he feels like the luckiest motherfucker on the planet.

"Go on," he says hoarsely, raising his chin as far as it'll go. "Take what's yours."

"Mm."

A soft kiss, the wet heat of tongue, and at last the solid, deliberate press of teeth and _holy shit this is_ real _he's going to take an actual bite out of me—_

His cock jerks, jerks again, and to his horror he creams himself like a goddamn teenager reaching second base for the first time.

Mantis lifts his mask enough to uncover his eyes and blinks at him. <I knew you'd be too riled up by this point to give me time to do any real damage, but sheesh, I didn't even break the skin.>

Liquid sighs, eyes shut. <Just put me down, Mantis.>

He does so, and Liquid buttons up his coat to hide the conspicuous stain in his pants. He spares Mantis a quick glance. <Thanks, by the way.>

<Oh, don't thank me when I have yet to extract my pound of flesh.> Mantis ruffles his boss's hair playfully. <Look forward to tonight.>

Liquid's heart gives a kick. <You're an enabler, you know that?>

Mantis nods, looking proud of himself.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> meanwhile otacon is freaked out by all these fucking scythers he doesn't remember catching and nicknaming stuff like "cool", "beautiful", "perfect", "awesome" (and... "mr. angry"...?)


	5. chew toy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> emetophobia warning for this one. also there's soft vore(!!!) but no digestion or anything

Generally speaking, Mantis does not enjoy being touched. He associates it with a uniquely horrifying flavor of powerlessness, the memory of which still makes him want to curl up into the fetal position on the spot. In the past he's had the occasional particularly bad brain night where he couldn't so much as share a bed with Boss, who respects his boundaries but nonetheless has a tendency while sleeping to smother anyone in reach with his massive hairy tits. On those nights Mantis would throw together a haphazard nest of blankets on the closet floor and shut the door so Boss wouldn't be subjected to his pathetic whimpering.

Tonight... tonight is not a bad brain night.

Mantis's kissing hasn't improved much even with years of practice, but Liquid gives a contented rumble anyway as he clumsily shoves his tongue in his boss's mouth. One of his hands rests on the small of Mantis's back, nails dragging idly back and forth along the bare skin, and Mantis wonders how something so seemingly minor could feel so _good_ , as if it's reaching an itch he didn't think himself capable of having.

It's not often he's comfortable going shirtless, so they're taking advantage of his confidence while it lasts, Mantis lazing atop Liquid to better appreciate the slight squishiness around his boss's middle (no doubt a result of his soft spot for sweets).

He's so fixated on the deft, precise way Boss curls their tongues together that he hardly notices the soldier outside their door until a moment before the knock comes.

Liquid withdraws his tongue with a vulgar wet sound, relaxed expression souring. He turns his head to the door and snaps, "Fuck off, I'm having gay sex!"

This leaves the interloper speechless for a few seconds, and Mantis senses the _Why me?_ vibes coming off him in waves. He presses his face into Liquid's shoulder to stifle a squawk of laughter, unsuccessfully.

"Sorry to bother you, sir. Intel is asking for you. They say something came up, they need you to approve a few things in person and it can't wait 'til morning."

Liquid looks at Mantis in dismay. "It definitely can't wait?"

"That's what I was told, sir."

Liquid squeezes his eyes shut, rubs his temples. "Very well. Tell them I'm coming." As Mantis clambers off him to let him up, he adds, <Sorry. I'll be quick as I can.>

<Yeah, it'd be a shame to miss out on all this hot no-dick-contact gay sex.>

Liquid perches at the edge of the bed to pull on his boots. <God. I'd _hoped_ that would make him reconsider the urgency of whatever-it-was. What a pain in the ass. This couldn't have happened at any other time, could it? >

<I'll wait for you,> Mantis promises.

Boss grunts in acknowledgment and brushes a kiss over his forehead before he straps his mask on.

\----------

Liquid's first words upon his return are <I need you to be extra mean to me tonight.> It's four in the morning and he's got a set to his mouth and eyebrows which unambiguously communicates "I will strangle the first unfortunate idiot who so much as breathes too loudly in my presence".

Mantis rubs his hands together. <Oooh, the steady escalation of your irritation has been _exquisite_. I had no trouble staying awake with that for entertainment. >

<I'm serious, pull out all the stops.> He launches himself onto the bed with such violence that Mantis almost goes tumbling off the side. <If I don't work out this frustration the base'll be littered with carcasses by dawn.>

<Now that would be a sight to see. My big angry man.> Mantis kneads a huge shoulder, admiring the impressive swell of powerful muscle beneath his spidery fingers as Boss shifts into a more comfortable position. <Hey... I just got a good idea. Meet you in dreamland.>

<Oh hell, I'm not even sure if that's possible at this point,> Liquid grumbles, so of course he's out cold within moments of shutting his eyes (though his childish frown remains stubbornly in place).

Mantis cackles softly and snuggles up close to him.

Things start out rather differently than usual in this jaunt into their shared dreamworld. Mantis has Liquid spawn on the floor in the center of the room. He squints at his surroundings, disoriented—fair enough, considering he's usually more than two inches tall. At first he doesn't even see the creature looming over him, all crooked legs and drooling jaws.

It fixes that by slamming down a foreclaw next to him, knocking him on his ass.

"What in the—" Boss chokes on the rest of that thought as his eyes skitter along Mantis's foreleg, follow it up and up to Mantis's body, then higher still, high as a skyscraper from his point of view, to meet Mantis's fiery orange stare.

<Hello, Boss,> it says. <You're going to get your wish now.>

It thrusts its head downward, too quickly for Boss to react, and plucks him up in its maxillae.

_ooh! eating me? eating me?!?_

<All in due time,> Mantis replies to his half-articulated hopefulness. <When I feel I've been sufficiently mean to you.>

Without warning, it flings him up in the air so that he comes just shy of colliding with the ceiling. His shriek of equal parts alarm and indignation is a memory Mantis will be sure to treasure for years to come. It catches him neatly in its jaws and tosses him up again.

<OhgodMantisI'mgoingtoPUKE!>

<You don't have to be nauseous if you don't want to,> Mantis reminds him sweetly. Catch, toss, catch.

Liquid lets himself be sick anyway, trembling in Mantis's jaws as he heaves a sticky mess all over his chest and the front of his pants. How cute.

Mantis isn't done with him yet, though. On the next toss, instead of catching him, it reaches out with a tarsus and bats him aside like a stuffed toy mouse. He goes sailing through the air, limbs flailing comically, and faceplants on the desk with an "oof".

Stumbling to his feet, he sees Mantis stalking over to him. He grabs a pencil taller than he is and wields it like a spear. "Eat graphite, beast!" he growls, though his voice and stance waver so much with renewed queasiness that this comes off as more pitiful than threatening.

<Can do.> Mantis seizes the pencil in its mouth and swings the makeshift spear from side to side with Boss still clinging to it for dear life. More hilarious shrieking.

After a bit Mantis pauses to let him puke again. Then it snaps the pencil in its jaws, lets the splintered halves drop, and grabs Liquid in its mouth before he hits the floor, holding him steady as he pants and shivers weakly with post-vomiting relief.

<Aah, my human, my tiny, fragile human.>

It strokes an upper palp through Boss's hair. He flinches feebly at the contact; Mantis luxuriates in the harsh scent of his fear.

<How adorably helpless you are. It makes me want to hold you close. It makes me want to never let you go.>

It tips back its head, slowly, letting Liquid slide to the back of its mouth like liquid.

<You're not even going to chew?> Liquid asks in confusion, though he doesn't resist.

<Shhh. Just go along with it.>

Mantis swallows.

<Okay. Oh. Ohhh man. This is... oh.>

<Poetry,> Mantis remarks.

<Look, you want a better description of what it's like in here? I seem to have boarded the world's crappiest water slide,> says the tiny, almost imperceptible lump in Mantis's throat. <It keeps knocking me head over heels every few seconds.>

<That'll be the peristaltic waves pushing you down my esophagus toward my midgut.>

<Ah, right. Can you hear me questioning my life choices as we speak?>

Mantis trills a quiet laugh. <You're remarkably calm for someone being swallowed whole.>

<Please. Compared to all that cat-and-mouse stuff, this is a walk in the park.>

With one last squeeze, the world's crappiest water slide comes to an end.

<Still doing all right, I take it?> says Mantis, prodding at its abdomen with a hind leg.

<It's not bad in here at all, really. A bit slimy. I suppose if this weren't a dream I'd be dying horribly by suffocation, but as it is, your guts are surprisingly well-ventilated.> Boss makes himself comfy on the smooth, soft floor. <Warm, too. God, I'm sick to death of these Alaskan nights. Give me your belly to sleep in any day. I can handle the weirdness.> He stretches and yawns. <Speaking of which, you've more than succeeded in wearing me out. Mind if I...?>

Mantis is stricken almost delirious with delight. <Be my guest.>

<This's nice,> Liquid says, drowsiness beginning to slur his words. <Wish we could do this outside of dreamland. Feels... safe. Like you're protecting me with your whole being.>

<Yes,> Mantis says softly.

Monitoring Boss over their mental link as he eases off into normal sleep fills Mantis with such peace that it has no trouble following him.

 


	6. fall apart

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a direct follow-up to [the third chapter of Oneironautics (the aborted bj one)](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5955667/chapters/14033102)
> 
> the ending is based (kind of loosely) on a digestion prompt from [PamuyaBlucat](http://archiveofourown.org/users/PamuyaBlucat/pseuds/PamuyaBlucat), who drew the lovely fanart in chapter 1~

Mantis wakes with a start. Purring away against his ribs, his weak heart may well be in actual danger of bursting from the strain of adrenaline rush. Under his mask, sweat crawls down the side of his forehead in icy little streams.

It's been a while, he thinks wearily.

That old nightmare of his has a real penchant for hamfisted imagery. Its latest offering: something precious to Mantis (it's okay, nightmare, you can just say it's Liquid) fleeing from some unseen terror only to be caged in on all sides by hundreds of reaching, incorporeal arms. In the manner of dreams, the arms flickered between forms—long and pale and skeletal as birch boughs in the dead of winter; hard-shelled and many-jointed like the limbs of an insect; an abstract mix of both.

As in every previous iteration of the nightmare, Mantis was helpless to do anything but plead with himself. _Why? Why am I doing this?!_

He sits up—slowly, so as not to wake Liquid—and squints at him in the dark. His breathing is calm and Mantis can tell his dreams are equally untroubled. Instead of warding off the residual horror of Mantis's nightmare, the sight brings it surging back.

For the second time that night, he teleports out of the room in a panic.

He finds a storage closet in a remote corner of the base and shuts himself in. He sits on the hard, uncomfortable floor, its chill seeping into him at once. As he starts shivering, he can practically hear Boss scolding him for not thinking to at least put _socks_ on before going out.

Good. Let him be cold.

It's the middle of the night, he's alone, his mental state is a mess from the events of the past few hours, so now he gets to dwell on every unkind thing he's ever said or done to Liquid while trapped in the throes of a meltdown. One incident in particular jabs at him like a white-hot needle in his chest.

Since he was a teenager he's had a recurring delusion that he'll "fall apart," as his brain puts it, if he doesn't keep tight clothing on. Once not long after coming to work for FOXHOUND he misplaced his comfort shirt, the one that hugged all his sharp angles just right and worked wonders together with the leather harness he'd started wearing for extra pressure. After a quick, frantic search, he discovered the shirt thrown in with Boss's laundry.

When Liquid came in a minute later, Mantis read him the riot act. If you looked past the angry, defensive tone in which it was delivered, Liquid's response—which boiled down to "How was I supposed to know?"—was more than fair.

Mantis snapped.

With a violent psychic heave, he slammed Liquid backward into the wall. Their link confirmed it was as painful as it sounded. Ugly gratification pulsed in Mantis's marrow.

It was short-lived. The shock on Liquid's face... it was like Mantis's internal organs were being ripped out. But before he could choke out an apology, Boss swept out of the room without a word.

The next three or four hours were some of the most miserable of Mantis's life, and considering the competition, that was saying something. He came within an inch of making a break for it when he sensed Liquid returning. Boss had calmed down by then, though, and they talked things out. He reassured Mantis he hadn't done him any lasting damage.

_But if I **HAD**! If I **HAD**!_

The simple fact is, he's not always in control of himself, he's _killed_ people while not in control of himself, and as broken as his brain is, who's to say sooner or later he won't do something to Liquid he'll regret for the rest of his life?

He hugs his knees and leans against the chilly metal door, furious with Liquid for trusting him so blindly, furious with himself for enabling him. Because if he's being honest with himself, there's a fundamentally selfish side to these oneironautics of Mantis's. A need for displays of unconditional faith from this one person, just this single one, when he knows damn well he doesn't deserve even that.

With the cold settling deep in his bones as if becoming a permanent part of him, he falls into a kind of half-doze that brings a fresh onslaught of harrowing images. Only now, instead of running, Liquid throws himself at Mantis with great glee to be torn apart again and again.

Subtle as always, that subconscious of his.

How long this goes on for, he can't guess. It takes his head suddenly smacking the floor to jerk him out of his stupor. Disoriented, he looks around wildly, arching his back like a cornered animal.

"Wolf?" he says, frowning.

"Interesting bed choice," she remarks as she opens the door fully.

He floats up off the floor, arms crossed. "What's it to you?"

"It's my business if a colleague is letting himself freeze to death right before a major operation in which he plays a crucial role," says Wolf. "What are you doing all the way out here?"

"I could ask the same of you," says Mantis peevishly, rubbing his bonked head.

"Couldn't sleep." With a soft puff of breath she sits neatly next to the wall. "Neither could you, from the sound of it. I was thinking you were some humongous rat scuffling around in there."

"Close enough."

Wolf chuckles, and to his amazement he starts to join in. He tries to pass it off as a cough.

"Look, you've already caught a cold," says Wolf, not fooled in the slightest.

Rolling his eyes, he summons a small midair fire with a faint _foomp_ sound and warms his hands over it.

For a time neither of them speaks. Then Wolf side-eyes him shrewdly and says, "Relationship issues?"

He sucks in a big breath for a waspish reply, then lets it whoosh back out of him. What's the use?

"Sort of," he says.

More silence as she lets him decide whether to drop the subject.

"You're one of the people he goes to," says Mantis. "For... what I can't give him."

She nods once.

"Better you than someone like Ocelot. I can't stand the thought of him treating Liquid like some kind of... of downgraded replacement Big Boss."

"You think he'd do that?"

"Speaking as a telepath who's been subjected to his vile fantasies: I _know_ he would."

Wolf turns this over in her head.

"I see. It bothers you that Liquid should have to rely on people who aren't you, and who might not have his best interests at heart, to fulfill a need that most people consider a basic element of romance."

Mantis stares into his fire. "Yes," he says quietly.

"Still," she says, "it seems a bit dramatic to exile yourself to the harsh Alaskan wilderness over just that."

Geez. Is he really that transparent? "It's not just that," he admits. "I'm... bad."

"I thought you prided yourself on being bad."

"Not to him, Wolf! Never to him! But then, what can you expect from someone as sick in the head as me?" he says bitterly. The fire fizzles out of its own accord, and he lets his arms and head hang limp. "I should never have come here."

"All couples go through rough patches, Mantis," Wolf says with mild exasperation.

"Oh, and I suppose all couples have one partner with superpowers that could very easily massacre the other partner in a moment of carelessness?!"

"Are you careless around him?"

"Well—not on purpose, but—"

"Look," she says. "Liquid Snake is not, by and large, a stupid man. He wouldn't have survived this long otherwise." She holds up a hand for silence when he tries to cut in. "And trust isn't something you earn once and never have to work for again. If he trusts you having seen what you're capable of in your worst moments, it's obviously because you keep proving to him that his faith is well-founded."

He says nothing, so she goes on, "Life is short, and you know as well as I do that there are precious few good things in it. You'd be an idiot not to hold on tight to this one. Now then," she adds in a lighter tone, "are you done trying to turn into a human Popsicle?"

He nods tiredly. At any rate, hurting himself will only make things harder on Liquid.

"Good." She rises to her feet with lupine grace and takes her leave, pausing only to say, "Keep the big oaf warm for me, won't you?"

\----------

He returns to Liquid feeling... well, not better exactly, but quieter inside. It helps that Wolf sincerely believed all those things she was saying. He only wishes he could find it so easy.

Slipping quietly back into bed, he falls into his old habit of scanning Boss's natural dreams. These tend to be split pretty evenly between the horny kind and PTSD nightmares. Anytime he encounters the distressing stuff, he forces a transition into a more pleasant scenario. No bad dreams for Boss on his watch.

This one is so abstract he's not sure what to make of it at first. Apparently Mantis is in it, though not in any concrete capacity: invisible, yet everywhere at once. Uneasily he thinks of his nightmare about surrounding Liquid with disembodied arms.

Liquid isn't troubled by the situation, though. Quite the opposite: Mantis's omnipresence fills him with a sense of total safety, total protection. There's only one problem.

He's dissolving.

Alarm shoots through Mantis as the flesh of Liquid's hands melts away before their shared dream-eyes, revealing muscle, then bone. Like flipping through one of those anatomy textbook diagrams that shows how the different organ systems are layered. Only terrifying.

It's Mantis himself causing this. There can be no question of that. He's got to put a stop to—

"Oh," he whispers.

Layer by layer, Liquid's body is reforming. More than that—healing. The crick in his neck is gone. The knots in his back have been worked out. He feels light. He feels _new_.

The cycle of dissolution (or maybe "digestion" would be a more apt term, Mantis thinks wryly) repeats itself. Healthy tissue replaces a nasty scabbed-over cut on his thigh. Another turn of the cycle, and the low buzz of his headache dissipates.

"Why are you even surprised?" Mantis mutters. "Like you're not familiar with the kind of weird shit he finds soothing."

But it gives him pause. What was it Wolf said? The part about proving himself to Liquid over and over again?

Maybe he's been looking at things the wrong way. Maybe Boss doesn't believe in him _despite_ how easily he could take advantage of their colossal power imbalance, but _because_ of it. It's hard to keep from repeating the same mistakes, especially with his hellish mental illness cocktail, and slip-ups are bound to happen. But he does try. And he supposes it must show, too, if Liquid—naturally wary as he is—feels safe letting his guard down around him. Safer, in fact, than with anyone else.

Scooting closer to share Boss's warmth, Mantis watches with a newfound appreciation as his imaginary self takes his dearest friend apart and rebuilds him stronger than before.

 


	7. bitter pill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here's an AU i'd been wanting to write for like a year of [the last chapter of Oneironautics](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5955667/chapters/14275081)—specifically, the part where tiny!mantis tries to get liquid to eat him
> 
> he succeeds in this version ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> (emeto warning again for this one; what can i say, it's fun describing people hurling)

Head dipped coyly, Mantis gazes up at Liquid from beneath long lashes as he dangles in midair, the back of his leather harness pinched between Boss's thumb and forefinger. His own thin fingers are threaded together in a gesture of supplication.

"Have mercy! I'm just a helpless little bug of paltry nutrition-to-calories ratio. Hardly a worthy mouthful for a big, strong, handsome giant like yourself." He wriggles half-heartedly in Liquid's grasp. "Ah, cruel fate! That I should be reduced to mere food for a superior being!"

Liquid purses his lips, closes his eyes, and lets out a breath through his nostrils that gusts over Mantis, warm and slightly damp.

<It's hard to take your "don't eat me" routine seriously when you're this visibly thrilled, Mantis.>

<Please. I'm a fabulous actor. Now, you play your part. Threaten me. Toy with me. Intimidate me, for God's sake! Chop-chop!>

"You dare order me around, little bug?"

His jokey tone doesn't prevent the thunder crash of his real voice from rattling Mantis's bones at these bite-size proportions. <Aw, yeah. That's the good stuff.>

Liquid stands a bit taller at the praise, chest thrust out. "It's time you learned your place," he booms, arrogance swelling his voice further still.

Mantis feels a definite twinge between his legs as a giddy shudder runs through him like a jolt of electricity. It makes him ill to imagine having another person within five hundred yards of his naked body, yet here he is ready to nut from a situation no normal human being would deem remotely sexy. Go figure.

"Please spare me! I'll do anything!" he cries, then cheerily undermines his own performance once more by chanting, <Do it! Do it!>

Liquid suddenly opens his palm and slaps Mantis to his neck, pinning him against the bulge of his Adam's apple. (He's failed to notice the stiffie, thank God for small favors.) He swallows deliberately, and the rippling motion of his throat draws a thin gasp from Mantis. He must say, squeamish as Boss was at first about reversing their usual roles, he isn't doing a half bad job.

To be fair, he did learn from the best.

"You like that, do you?" Liquid says, lowering his voice.

Pressed right up to his windpipe, the sound reverberates through Mantis's flesh. Oh, that's good. That is dangerously good. "I... I..."

Liquid lifts his hand away and snatches him back up in his fingers. His leer turns Mantis's joints to mush.

"So. You trespassed on my lair _wanting_ this," he says, downright lascivious. "Depraved little bug. Very well. Seeing as you've accepted your status as food..."

Liquid does not disappoint. Tipping his head back, he dangles Mantis above his open mouth long enough to give him a good look inside—and lets go.

A brief but gut-loosening nosedive. An earsplitting, light-extinguishing clack of teeth larger than his head.

Beneath him pitches a tongue that could serve as a duvet for a king-size bed, knocking him to the side, head over heels, to keep him from tumbling straight down Liquid's gullet. Then the muscular floor levels off as Boss lowers his chin, parting his jaws to admit light and fresh air.

<Are you all right in there?>

<All right?! You're _killing_ me. In a good way, > he adds quickly. He sits up, holding his head in both hands as he waits for it to clear. <Huh. Even from this perspective, your teeth aren't completely horrid. What kind of fake Brit are you?>

<The kind who's going to start _chewing_ if a certain insect doesn't watch it with the clever comments. >

He crawls across the damp, springy carpet of taste buds (Liquid honks out a laugh at the ticklish sensation) and dramatically drapes himself over a set of molars. <Oh no, anything but that!>

The matching row of upper molars abruptly descends on his chest, squeezes just enough to hold him in place, remind him that Liquid really could crush his tiny bones if he wanted to. The tip of the tremendous tongue probes at him playfully, which tickles like hell. Mantis writhes and screeches a variety of rude language.

Then the tongue drags a wet trail over his crotch.

An innocent coincidence, that much he perceives. A fact that doesn't help him hold back a noisy, absolutely shameful moan.

Startled, Liquid withdraws his tongue and slackens the pressure from his teeth. <Did I hurt you?>

<No, no,> he replies too hastily. <Come on, let's get to the best part.>

The jaws open obligingly and he flops down belly-first onto the squishy tongue, facing the cavernous entrance of Liquid's throat.

<Real insects get to see this view all the time,> Mantis says philosophically, chin in hands. <Such a vital link in the food chain we are.>

Liquid says nothing.

<Well, what's the holdup? If it's your gag reflex you're concerned about, you know the dream world will—>

<No, my gag reflex was already nonexistent.>

Mantis thinks about that for half a second and is sorry he did.

Boss's emotions suffuse his mind then, and understanding softens his tone. <Remember, the real you and me are snuggled up all toasty,> he says, giving the tongue an encouraging pat. <Believable as it seems, the stuff we do here is just a glorified game of pretend at the end of the day. All _your_ real-world body parts are intact, aren't they? >

A nice cool breeze flows by overhead as Liquid takes a deep, steadying breath. <Here goes nothing,> he says gruffly, and closes his mouth.

Another blackout. Mantis wants to see everything that comes next, though. Responding to his wishes, the "software" of the dream world illuminates his bone-white and flesh-pink surroundings with a soft, sourceless glow.

With hesitant slowness, Liquid's tongue lifts him until he's pressed against the ridged roof of his mouth.

<Yesss! Here it comes, here it comes!>

<Oh God, shut up,> Liquid moans.

And swallows.

A roller-coaster thrill surges through Mantis as he's yanked headfirst into his boyfriend's gullet by a powerful wet constriction of muscle, and he can't help cackling with glee. Swallowed whole. How many creatures experience this and live to tell the tale? There's an undeniable extreme-sports vibe to the whole thing.

<This is amazing,> he reports, clobbered and jerked along by peristaltic spasms, arms pinned to his sides.

<I just hope you don't expect me to digest you. Pretend or not, that's a bit much for me.>

<Don't worry, I won't try to—oh, hey, I'm in your stomach.>

<Brilliant. See any of those ulcers I've been nursing?>

He situates himself in the lower curve of the stomach—there's a conspicuous lack of gastric acid bath—and through the furrowed, mucus-slicked floor he can feel the faint pulse of Liquid's heartbeat. A literal living room. He gazes in wonder at the organic walls.

<Push on your stomach. Let's see if I can feel it,> he says.

Liquid hunches over and obliges. The floor punches upward and Mantis laughs in surprise when his butt leaves the ground for a split second.

<I take that as a yes,> says Liquid.

<Do it again!>

Boing. Boing. Boing. Like sitting in one of those inflatable castles while someone else hops around like a fool, their tremors making you sort of bounce too. Pretty soon the two of them are giggling like a couple of schoolgirls.

Once they've gotten that out of their systems, Liquid asks, <What now?>

<I can teleport out of you,> Mantis says with a shrug. <There's lots I want to do while the night's still young.>

A pause.

<I've got a better idea,> says Liquid.

Mantis inclines his head, ferreting out the unarticulated thought. He sits up straight, grinning. <Go for it.>

In light of the sheer number of times he's puked in his life, he really should've predicted that the reverse journey would be somewhat more turbulent. Well, you know what they say: hindsight is 20/20.

The stomach starts to slew violently, backwash from the exertions of retching. A terrific shift in pressure sucks him right up the esophagus, and—

<Aaaaaaaahhhhhh!>

He is out of there! Out! Of! There!

An instant later, he plows into Liquid's open hand like a speeding baseball into a catcher's mitt.

<That,> he says, plastered to the palm with sticky froth, <was COOL.>

<I can see it now. Families queuing in droves to be shrunk down and turned into vomit,> Liquid replies dryly. <Disney World, eat your heart out.>

<Me, I've always wanted to be vomit. So much the better to match my enchanting personality.>

Liquid covers him with smooches until Mantis swats at him good-naturedly. <This has certainly been an... interesting change of pace. I do prefer our usual arrangement, though. Are we—>

He blinks at his suddenly empty hand. Scrunches up his face at the sensation of something wet drip-dripping onto his hair. He reaches up to touch it and his hand comes away smeared with opaque black mucus.

He gazes up, up at Mantis's looming favorite form.

<We are,> it says.

 


End file.
